To Live in the Shadows
by NefariaBlack
Summary: A 15 chapter collection based around Rodolphus Lestrange. For the Creative Collection Challenge, competing at mid-level: angsty dialogue Fifteen moments in the life of the eldest Lestrange, fifteen pairings (not romantic for the most part) Rated M overall, specific warnings at the top of each chapter
1. The Voice of Conscience

_Author's Notes: This collection is based around Rodolphus Lestrange and will depict fifteen moments in his life, each with a different pairing and a different dialogue prompt. It is my entry for the March Event: Creative Collection at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)._

 _The pairings include romantic, familial and friendship, among others. Both the pairing and the dialogue can be found at the bottom, so as not to spoil anything. This collection is not chronologically ordered.  
_

 _Reviews are absolutely craved for. Enjoy_

 _Specific warnings: crude language; mentions of torture and murder_

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 **The Voice of Conscience**

 _Lestrange Castle, October 1975_

The brothers were seated by the fire, tumblers of fire whiskey in their hands, both watching the amber liquid dance over the rocks of ice with the tones of the flames. The room was dimly lit, the fireplace being the source of most of the light.

They were exhausted upon their return. An entire day spent hunting down an Auror and his family, most of the night spent torturing the said Auror by torturing his Mudblood wife and making his children scream. Two fleeting moments to kill them all and cast a skull and a serpent in the sky. Bellatrix had been with them too, but as soon as their mission was complete, barely having set foot past the doorstep, her Dark Mark had burned the inky black that signalled their Master's call.

"Sorry, Dolph, I have to leave," she had told Rodolphus, with a peck on his cheek, "but go ahead and celebrate with Rabastan." She had smiled to him, still very much high from the magic flowing through her veins. She had this way of looking her most beautiful when she was casting Unforgivables, there was a glee to her face, a bliss. Rodolphus had hoped to enjoy that sight for the remainder of the night. Hoped to whisper how beautiful she looked bathed by the red light if her _Crucio_ while kissing down her neck and collarbone.

Their Master knows that she would be beautiful that night too, of course. And had decided to keep that sight all to himself. Dark Lords don't like sharing. Rodolphus fears the day his Lord will decide not to share her body anymore, the day he will be banished from ever touching her supple flesh again. It will come, he knows. And she will obey him blindly, relinquishing the last threads of whatever love she still feels for him.

"When are you going to realize that she doesn't love you?"

With an angry huff, he turned his eyes to the man before him, content in the opposing armchair. His brother had always had a way to tell what he was thinking about. It's a connection they've shared since they were children. One that he particularly resents that night.

"Leave it be, Bast. My marriage is my own," he said, with a warning in his eyes, "and you don't get a say in it until you're a husband yourself." He had sat straighter at that, making it crystal clear that he was not too tired to avoid a fight.

"I see you sit there, in that armchair, every day, brooding about her. Don't deny it, Rod, I can tell when it's her in your mind," it was Rabastan's turn to sit up and look his brother in the eye, "and it is almost always her. She doesn't belong to you anymore, she was taken. Get over it! Find a bloody mistress and rid your mind of her. You'll go insane if you don't."

Rabastan rose from his seat with his last words, pacing a bit and chugging the fire whiskey down his throat. Rodolphus couldn't blame him. They were supposed to be celebrating, for Merlin's sake. They had rid the Dark Lord's path to glory of yet another foe, eliminating sullied blood in the process, spreading terror too. They would be rewarded. They would be praised at the following meeting. And all he could do was drink fire whiskey and muse about his unfaithful wife.

A deranged laughter broke the seal of his lips, and he tossed his head back, under the spiteful glance of his younger brother.

 _No, not unfaithful. Dear Bella is very faithful indeed, just not to you, you miserable sod._

"For fuck's sake, Rod! Look at you!" Rabastan snarled at him, spitting his words as if they were weapons, "Getting drunk over something you can't have. Your wife was chosen by the Dark Lord to be his concubine and you can't do anything to stop it. So rise to it. Own it. You married the most desirable bride of our entire generation. So damn desirable that the Dark Lord himself took her! I get it-"

"Do you now, Rabastan? Do you? No, little brother," the glint in Rodolphus eyes had gone from miserable to vicious in an instant, "you do not get it. All you know of witches comes from rumps here and there. I love her. I love her and I'm not allowed to be loved back because the Dark Lord-"

Rabastan had moved quickly then, jumping him, knocking the armchair to the floor and landing on his brother's chest. His left hand was pressed to Rodolphus mouth, his right hand held his wand at his sibling's neck. He kept both hands there until he was sure no more words would come from his brother's mouth.

"Don't ever say what you are thinking right now, Rodolphus, ever. It's treason, it will get you killed. I can knock the senses out of you," he said, pressing the tip of his wand until the skin beneath it had no option but to be bruised, "and keep you from talking, but I cannot shield your mind for you." He had uncovered Rodolphus mouth at that, and dropped his head to plant a fraternal kiss on his forehead.

Rodolphus pushed his brother off him. He was right and it stung badly that he was. There was a time when Bella and he had a chance at a happy marriage, an agreeable one at the very least. She still allowed him her body, willingly, though she had stopped whispering his name in the heights of pleasure and no longer wished to look him in the eye during it. But her heart, her mind, was completely out of reach now. An unobtainable goal to her husband.

"What do you say to some proper celebration?" Rabastan was standing above him, extending his hand, "I know all the good places to have those rumps you so despise. It will clear your mind, I tell you."

Maybe Rabastan was right about this too. Maybe he should start by craving a different body. Yes, another body, one not made of pale expanses of pure flesh stretched over dark curls, one not laced with blue veins in all its soft places, one that craved him and not someone else.

He took the hand of his brother and got up with his help, like so many times before. Bella was gone, but Rabastan would always remain. So the brothers walked to the Apparition Point outside, turned right, and were gone together.

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 _Author's Notes: Pairing – Rodolphus Lestrange/Rabastan Lestrange; Angsty Dialogue - When are you going to realize that he/she doesn't love you?_


	2. The Failure Within

_Author's Notes: No specific warnings for this chapter. Challenges and Prompts can be found at the end, as usual._

 _Reviews keep writers going, please leave me your thoughts_

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 **The Failure Within**

 _Malfoy Manor, January 1996_

Rodolphus woke with the sound of the door creaking open. Years ago, he would have jumped off the bed, wand at ready, a spell leaving his lips as he faced the threat. He did none of it. He couldn't anymore, not yet.

His body was still stiff from freezing in Azkaban for fourteen years, his joints stuck and painful from crouching on the floor for hours and days and weeks. His reflexes would need coaching to become what they used to be naturally. His wand had not been returned to him yet, and how he missed the feeling of wood against his palm, how he missed the ability to break those that would not bend to the Dark Lord's will. His lips were chapped, minute fissures opening and bleeding, just enough to taste blood when his tongue ran over them, whenever he moved them. His mind so torn that he wasn't sure he still remembered the spells.

He did command his body to move, and turn, painfully slow, every muscle screaming his opposition, every inch of skin screaming for the warmth of the bed. Warmth, that forgotten thing he had spent years dreaming of, only to realize, the previous night, that it was something well beyond his dreams. Sitting on the edge of the mattress seemed an unsurmountable task. But he had escaped from Azkaban, he would not be defeated by a damned bed and a sore body.

"Good morning, Rodolphus," came the ever purring, deep voice of Lucius, "I hope you had a good night sleep." He did not dare come closer, waiting at the door. Rodolphus smiled to himself, or so he thought, it could have been just another pained expression. Lucius was afraid to approach him, afraid of his probable madness, of a reaction he could not predict.

"Get the curtains, Lucius," he ordered, with a nod to the window, "I've missed the sun." He regretted that choice the instant the curtains moved. Because the light he had missed was hurting him too, everything he craved for years seemed to come with pain. Because Lucius had no need to touch the curtains to open them, he was free to use his magic.

The silver-haired man seemed to feel safe enough at Rodolphus move to shield his eyes from the light. Maybe he should have snarled at the light, maybe he would look mad enough not to be disturbed at such a freaking early hour. He forced his eyes to open and face the morning light, face the other wizard in the room too.

Lucius kept a stilled expression, but Rodolphus knew his piercing grey eyes were roaming him. Noticing the voids in his face, the hollows where his eyes now sat deeper, his gangly neck that stuck out from his shoulders. Taking in the way his pyjama hung from his very bones, the way his skin had yellowed, greyed, dried and shrivelled. Observing his decrepitude and thanking whatever gods there might be that he had not shared of his luck.

"I came to bring you this," he said has he extended a wand, Rodolphus wand, "I thought you would like it back."

 _Like it back… Pfft, I've spent fourteen years wishing for the feel of it, wishing for my magic back._

"I thought it had been destroyed," he whispered, moving faster than he imagined he could to grab the wand from Lucius palm, "I thought the Wizengamot had them broken and burned."

"They can't. Old laws prevent them from destroying the wands of living wizards and witches in Azkaban, in case they're proven innocent. They must kill you or give you to the Dementors before your wand is snapped."

"We were all given to the Dementors, Lucius. They have the run of the place, don't you know?"

The sharp edge of his voice was palpable. Rodolphus was a little happier that Lucius had recoiled under his scorning gaze, a silent accusation of failure. Lucius dropped his head momentarily, recognizing his fault.

"I am sorry, Rodolphus, but there was nothing-" he was not allowed to finish.

"Nothing? Nothing you could have done?" his tone is biting, vicious, scorching, "you didn't even try to save me. You didn't try to save Bella. You gave us all up to the Dementors."

"And what was I supposed to do? Tell me, Rodolphus," and Lucius tone had become equally biting, "just how was I supposed to save the lot of you? When I was finally cleared, the three of you, Lestranges, decided to finally come out of hiding, picked up Barty, and went after the Longbottoms!" His voice was a quiet scream, a growl disguised as a purr.

"And you wouldn't risk your new found safety."

"How could I? You were a lost cause! The Dark Lord had fallen almost a month before, how was I going to stand for you? What was I going to say? That our Master, presumed dead, was so powerful that he still held the four of you under the _Imperius_? That you and Bella had not been his most vicious lieu-tenants for over a decade?"

Rodolphus kept his eyes on those of Lucius, seething, but helpless to deny the truth. The hard, bitter truth that they were far beyond saving long before they were captured. The man before him was a stranger now. He had had fourteen years of freedom, of a wife and a son, while Rodolphus had nothing but Azkaban and the immensity of the void it created. His wife was close, his brother was close, but there were thick, cold walls between them. Frozen bars on heavy metal doors that had open only once, to let them in. They had not really spoken to each other for a decade or so, ever since Azkaban had reduced their communication skills to screaming their way through the nightmares and the mind-shattering visits of the rotten spectres.

Lucius held his raging eyes all along. They used to be war comrades, brothers-in-arms, bound and bond by the same oath. Some of it would come back, he hoped. But most was lost, he knew. Azkaban and Dementors had taken most of Rodolphus memories, all of the happy ones for sure, and was left was not enough to rebuild the bridge.

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 _Author's Notes: Challenges and Prompts_

 _Creative Collection Challenge: Pairing - Lucius Malfoy; Angsty Dialogue - You didn't even try to save me_

 _Caffeine Awareness Challenge: Macchiato - Write a story set in the morning_


	3. The Flower Sister to His Star

_Author's Notes: Prompts and Challenges listed at the end, as usual_

 _No specific warnings for this chapter, but keep in mind that this is M rated_

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 **The Flower Sister to His Star**

 _Malfoy Manor, April 1980_

The couples were gathered in the sunroom, talking, enjoying the warmth that seeped through the large windows, bathing in the light. The meeting had not started like this, not at all. Rodolphus and Bellatrix had been frenzied when they'd arrived. High from the hunt, from the kill. Another Ministry worker would be announced missing in the newspaper the next day, nothing left behind, no clues.

Lucius hadn't been too happy. He and Bellatrix had a way of getting on each other's nerves, working the other into such a state that nothing but snarky remarks made it past their lips. Narcissa had hushed them both tenderly. And even if Bella was still willing to keep going, Lucius was no match for his pregnant wife.

It was short-lived, the calm. Bella was still restless, he could tell. Her right feet dangling in the air, rhythmically moving, the tip slightly touching his shin, almost a caress. Rodolphus kept his right arm around her shoulders and squeezed. She turned her wide dark eyes to him.

"Settle down, Bella. We're trying to have a conversation here."

She smiled, keeping her head on the cradle of his shoulder. Then she set to moving, a haste to her gestures, rising from the cushioned bench, raising her arms to pull her curls up into a high ponytail that lasted only mere seconds, as long as her hands felt like staying still. She needed to move, to run, to work the excitement off. To fight it off, in words, in spells, in touches.

Rodolphus mused on the idea of an early departure, to snatch Bella away and lock the both of them inside their bedroom and work it off her until they had been completely sated. She would be willing, she was always willing after a kill. It was a matter of getting to her first. His musings were interrupted by the blonde witch.

"Bella," Narcissa kept her voice quiet, soothing, while she drew patterns with her fingers on Lucius hand on her belly, "why all the unrest? What have you two been up to anyway?" Her blue eyes were absolutely clueless as to what her sister had been up to, Rodolphus realized. He couldn't agree with Lucius when it came to keeping the blonde Black out of the loop. They all had dark deeds to their names, the three of them, Bella's and his were by far worse than those of Lucius, but Narcissa should be made aware of the price, in case it was ever collected.

Rodolphus smirked at the glare Lucius shot at his wife. A very much _I won't tell you again_ glare. Not that the eldest Black could ever be dissuaded by a simple glare.

"You're so sweet, Cissy," and Rodolphus cleared his throat, sensing the dripping sarcasm in Bella's voice, "it's so nice of you to ask." She finished with an eager smile, finally coming to rest. Rodolphus made to rise, to stop Bella from saying things that she would come to regret. He knew that she cared deeply for her sister, but there was a streak of evil to her temper that couldn't keep from lashing out at every given chance.

"You see, some of us are true servants to the Dark-" her words were cut short by Lucius, who rose with care from Narcissa's side, only to stride menacingly to his sister-in-law and walk her to the garden just outside the glass-panelled doors. Always the gentleman, he opened the door to her, albeit there was really no choice to crossing it or not.

"I'm sorry, Cissa," he told his wife with an apologetic smile, "I'll bring your sister back in a moment."

Rodolphus, who had not had the time to actually rise from his seat, got up and combed his dark slick hair back from his forehead with his fingers. He took in the sight of his sister-in-law, pristine looking in a pale blue dress that spread over her budding middle as she caressed it. The blue complimented her colours, the blue of her eyes, the blonde of her hair, the rose of her cheeks, the pale cream of her unblemished skin. A pregnant Madonna. A soothing sight that brought him down from his earlier high. He hadn't realized yet, but the truth to Narcissa was just that. She was the one who brought the calm, the one who calmed Lucius, and him, and even Bellatrix sometimes, after the storms of magic they walked through these days.

And then he noticed something else. The fragile flower had been hurt by the warrior star. Narcissa was on the verge of tears, the blue of her eyes watery, held back by her pride alone.

"Don't you dare feel sorry for me, Rodolphus," and the flower seemed a lot less fragile, her tone steeled against emotion, "I spend so much time worrying about her, and she doesn't even think of me once. I know what you do for the Dark Lord, but I've chosen another form of service." She lowered her eyes from his face to her abdomen, and kept her hands on the spot that he could see move, pleading with the unborn child to calm down, stay still.

"She does think of you, Narcissa, just not always at the right moment," he knew that to be truth, as Bella often regretted the things she said to her sister later, "but she doesn't actually mean to hurt you. She could never."

"She does not think of me! She sees me as inferior because I do not fight," she wiped the lone tear that managed to escape her left eye, "but it never crossed her mind what it is that I do. I'll serve the cause of the Dark Lord with this child of mine, and that is a sacrifice she could never fathom." Rodolphus almost took a step behind at that, the flower had turned lioness before his eyes, and she would stand her ground and keep her pride safe, no matter the cost, he could tell.

"I have been serving the Dark Lord with my very home for years. I served him when I had to let a sister go because we didn't share the same beliefs. I have been in his service by keeping his best spies, his best influencers within the Ministry, sane and happy despite all they do for him."

And Rodolphus could not deny her work. Lucius seemed to be made of ice, but he knew his cracks, and he knew how only Narcissa could mend him. Abraxas was ice made human, and he could never deny the honest affection in the old man's eyes whenever they gazed over his daughter-in-law. This flower that soothes warriors is not without her thorns. The war had been raging for months now, and Narcissa endured, steadying everyone around her. An image suddenly came to his mind, a memory.

Years ago, while they were all still just Slytherin students in the hallways of Hogwarts, he had seen Narcissa throw a vicious curse at another student that had hexed her friend. She was just a second year then, but her movements had been fast and easy. He had told Bella of it, and she had been proud of her sister's skill, in that hidden way a Black was proud of something deemed absolutely natural of the purest blood. That little girl had become this woman before him. A pretty flower, but one that would fight all the same, if on her own terms, by the side of the warrior star.

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 _Author's Notes: Thank you to the readers who have deemed this thing interesting enough to follow._

 _Creative Collection: Pairing - Narcissa Malfoy; Angsty Dialogue - I spend so much time worrying about him/her, and he/she doesn't even think of me once_

 _Caffeine Awareness Challenge: Café Bombón - (dialogue) "You're so sweet."_

 _Jewel Challenge: Fluorite Ring - Write about someone who has a calming effect on others_


	4. Amidst the Nothing, a Mirage

_Author's Notes: Prompts and Challenges listed at the end_

 _Warnings: lemons and smut lie ahead_

 _Word count: 1.459_

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 **Amidst the Nothing, a Mirage**

 _Castle Lestrange, February 1973_

They lingered in each other's arms, in the warm light from the fire raging at the hearth, bodies mostly under the covers to fight the cold. Skins made golden by the flames. They were sated, content.

They had come home after interrogating an Auror to the verge of madness. They had only stopped short of insanity because he had yielded. That had left them on the brink of completion. Their job was done, their mission accomplished, but something was missing. Lacking. So they had written a small note to the Dark Lord, one that stated only that it was done and that they would report to him whenever he deemed to summon them, and locked themselves away in their bedroom.

They had watched the sun go down in the reprieve from their love making. Then they had showered together, to rid their bodies of the day. Rodolphus had washed every inch of Bellatrix's skin, massaging her back, kissing her collarbones, latching his mouth to the curve of her neck, kneading the flesh of her breasts until she hummed with need again. He had stopped then, and Bella had washed him in turn, teasing him with every movement, every look, every lick of her lips. She had gotten on her knees, the wicked creature, and washed him thoroughly, and left him panting as she walked from the shower, dripping, while he hummed with desire.

The third time had been voracious and hasty, but the bliss and the exhaustion that followed was exactly what they needed. Completion.

He was musing on the thought of ordering their dinner to bed when Bella purred as she nestled further into his chest, her still damp curls spread over her pillow. She laced her legs with his and started drawing patterns on his skin with her fingers, as he drew patterns down her left arm. He had lowered his eyes from the night, past the window, to the darkness of her gaze, and she held the darkness of his. Rodolphus right hand came up from the covers to hold her chin and tilt it up, and he revelled in the sight of her heavy-lidded eyes closing in anticipation of his kiss.

He kissed her for a long time, rolling on top of her so that he could pin both her wrists to the mattress with one of his hands. His other hand set to travel the pale expanses of her body, careening lower and lower until he found her mons. He kept the heel of his hand pressed there, not moving, until she groaned into their kiss, pleading, and then until she hugged his waist with her legs and churned her hips, demanding. He moved his fingers to her already soaked folds, plunging two fingers into her and trapping her clit beneath his thumb. Bellatrix broke their kiss, gasping for air, moaning wantonly, loudly, just as he liked. He took the chance to ravage her neck and her shoulders, kissing, and sucking, and biting, marking her as his, despite knowing better. He worked her womanhood until she was on the verge once more, and then kept her there for long minutes, stopping and changing his ministrations every time he felt her almost snap. When he himself was on the edge, he released her hands, entered her swiftly, with a moan to compliment hers, and started moving in earnest, deep into her.

She bit him as she came, driving her nails into the skin of his back and dragging them to his bottom, marking him as hers, as he truly was. And that drove him off the cliff, grunting, struggling to keep his weight on his elbows and not collapse on top of her. Exhaustion.

Then they coiled their limbs around each other once more, gathering their bearings while in the cosiness of each other's skin. Rodolphus took a look to the tall mirror by the corner, and pretended once more that he was the only man to ever hold a golden, sated Bellatrix in his arms. He kissed the crown of her head and murmured into her curls.

"I love you."

"I love you too," she murmured back, already drifting into slumber. Unaware of just how significant her adding of "too" really was in that moment.

"Indeed. Too."

Bella raised her head from his chest, and he did not whether he wanted that void on his skin or whether he resented it. She blinked several times, shaking her head in confusion at his biting tone, at the harshness in his voice.

"What do you mean?"

"You know damn well what I mean, Bella! Too! Too! It will never be just us, you will never love just me!"

She recoiled from him, kneeling on the bed, covering her nakedness with her arms and looking away from him.

Rodolphus felt like bashing his head into the wall for being so stupid as to bring the matter up. For being so stupid as to think that he could remain angry at her, when she sat there, on her calves, naked and golden and covered only by the luxurious cascade of her inky curls, as broken as he was.

For her love for the Dark Lord broke them both. It broke her every time Lord Voldemort sent her on her way with the assurance that he did not love her. It broke him twice as much, however. Once when she walked to the Dark Lord so willingly, so bright-eyed, and another time whenever she returned, giddy or wrecked, it made no difference, because she always came back still the Dark Lord's.

"I love you. Tell me that's enough!" It was a desperate plead, but one that would only do more damage.

Her eyes provided all the answers he needed. He was not enough, his love was not enough. She craved the love of something higher, something unobtainable, but still something only she could ever hope to reach. Bellatrix was a Black, raised to not settle for anything but the best. He would be the best, were it not for their Master, so clearly superior in all things. Including her affections.

Nothing. That was all there was left for him to have. Nothing. For one cannot have a piece of starlight, only the star in its entirety. But only a great wizard could ever hold a star, and Rodolphus was not it.

There were silent tears on her cheeks as she moved to leave their bed and cover her body with her dressing gown. And that Rodolphus definitely resented. With a voice as broken as they were, he told her, begged her not to go, to come back to bed. She looked over her right shoulder, and the tear track over her cheekbone shimmered in the flames.

She walked back to him without as much as thinking about it, curling her body into his side, holding on to his waist for dear life. He released a breath he did not know he was holding, because she was back at his side, back in his arms, were he wanted her, at all times. Because even if she was not his, he was always better by her side.

"You deserve so much more than what I can give you," she murmured into his skin, drawing patterns again, "I'm not worthy of your love." He could feel one of her tears carving a path on his skin, burning with her sadness.

"Don't ever say that again, Bella. You are the worthiest of it.," he turned to face her, as she looked up from the crook of his neck, "you are the only one for me."

The glaze that came over her eyes then was all he could ask for. There was love in that watery glaze, even if it was not the only love in her heart. He resented that bitter thought, but a place in her heart was all he had ever craved since they were fifteen. He could share. He could share that precious water in the oasis. He knew that he should not, he knew that one day, sooner or later, the Dark Lord would shut him out, deprive him of water and watch him dehydrate while he bathed. But she had given him hope with her eyes, and so he kept running towards the mirage, deeper into the unforgiving desert of her affection.

He needed this star to point his north, he needed this she-warrior to survive the war. Even if the one true star in his night sky would guide him into doom at the end. Even if the mighty warrior would slay him too. And she needed him, albeit differently.

For he loved her, and that was enough. For she loved him. Too.

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 _Author's Notes: Don't go without leaving me a review, please._

 _Prompts and Challenges:_

 _Muggle Art Task 1: Write about a private and poignant moment between lovers (inspired by Gustav Klimt's The Kiss (Lovers))_

 _Creative Collection Challenge: Pairing - Bellatrix Lestrange; Angsty Dialogue - You deserve so much more than what I can give you_

 _Jewel Challenge: Kunzite Bracelet - Write a fic set in the evening_

 _Caffeine Awareness Challenge: Cappuccino - Write a story using only two characters_

 _365 Prompts Challenge: (95) Dialogue - "I love you. Tell me that's enough!"_


	5. To Thy I Bind My Soul

_Author's Notes: Challenges and Prompts at the end_

 _Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, directed at adults and children alike, some gore. Please be aware of your sensibilities and proceed accordingly_

 _Word count: 1.327_

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 **To Thy I Bind my Soul**

 _Malfoy Manor, September 1969_

He was so very nervous that night. He had spent the day pacing around Castle Lestrange, earning glares from portraits, a scolding from his Mother, and a harsh conversation with his Father.

The elder Lestrange was there too, Rodolphus new. His Father was in the meeting the Dark Lord had summoned, specifically, to welcome the new recruits. He had no idea about what would follow, if there was some sort of ceremony, or ritual. He didn't know if he feared it or craved it. Perhaps he would be made to showcase his skill, maybe he would have to claim a life tonight, or torture a mind to the verge of sanity. All he knew was that he couldn't wait any longer.

Bella would be so proud of him. She still had another year to go at Hogwarts but joining the Dark Lord's ranks was already her goal. Bast would be proud too, of the older brother he always looked up to, and whose he would follow. And Father, he was going to be the proudest, watching a second generation of Lestranges join the fight for a better, purer world.

The door came ajar and he nearly jumped. He managed to stop his body from jerking, but his instincts kicked in and his wand was aimed at the house-elf that had come for him. The wretched creature backed away into the shadows beyond the door immediately. Malfoy elves were thoroughly trained in the art of dodging jinxes and more physical forms of punishment in their first days of service. This one didn't even dare share the same room as him, merely showing his snout like face again and telling him that the Master will receive him now.

The Master. Not Abraxas Malfoy, no. The Dark Lord himself.

Rodolphus started walking as he made sure his attire was flawless, following the house-elf into another room. A large expanse of marble floors, poorly lit, walls lined by cloaked dark figures bearing silver engraved masks. As statues they stood, the chosen ones, alert, expecting. He and the Dark Lord himself were the only ones with bare faces.

"Come closer," a soft voice beckoned him, "let me see you." And he walked, incapable of any resistance, to the man, the wizard, the leader that would command his life from now on. For that was the only way of servitude Lord Voldemort accepts. Lifelong servants to his cause.

He bowed at the feet of the Dark Lord, kneeling with the elegance of old blood that recognizes nothing above it but sheer power and older blood. Lord Voldemort has both. Rodolphus keeps his head down, not daring to let his eyes drift upwards and take in the sight of his new Master.

"Why do you wish to join my ranks, Rodolphus?"

There was a buzz in his mind and he knew his thoughts were being watched long before he could voice them.

"I wish to purify wizarding society, to purge it from unworthy blood, to keep the filth from further sullying our lines. I wish to ascertain that wizards and witches rise to their natural position, above muggles. I wish for Hogwarts to be a place where only the worthy will be taught the ways of magic." He gasped, he was out of air in sheer excitement.

He saw the right hand of his new Master rise to halt his speech. Then turn, palm up, and travel to the air just before his chin, and lift his fingers just enough. A command, a permission. Rodolphus looked up and basked on the sigh before him.

The Dark Lord was hallowed by the light, his features handsome, charming, his gaze piercing.

"Tell me, Rodolphus, what do you dislike the most about the current state of affairs between wizarding kind and muggles?"

"That I have to pretend, My Lord," his voice in awe, "I'm forced to pretend to be someone else, that I am not above them, that I cannot smash them and reduce them to nothing." He could have cried with the expression that came upon Lord Voldemort's face. He had earned a smile.

"Well said, Rodolphus. You are worthy of my ranks, I can tell. You have one last task before you."

With that, Lord Voldemort moved to the side, turning slightly and waving his hand to the door opposite to the one Rodolphus had used. The door opened to reveal a bruised man, magically bound and at the mercy of a Death Eater.

"A muggle," the Dark Lord explained, disgust dripping from his voice, "and one that dared sully our lines. This man married a witch, a pureblood, and sired two children by her. Squibs, the two of them." He waved his hand again and three bound figures came levitating into the room.

The man looked about fifty, but the witch was much younger, in her early thirties perhaps. The children looked about ten. They all looked equally terrified of the assembly. Rodolphus realized what would be asked of him, and started making plans. His Master chuckled beside him.

"An eager soldier," only then did Rodolphus realize that the buzz had never left his mind, "you will have them, the muggle and the squibs. But the witch has much too valuable blood. You shall punish her with the sigh of the demise of her so called family, but do not harm her in any way." His hand signalled him to rise, and then unleashed him on his victims.

The witch cried quietly, unable to move, unable to protect her kind. The children had been unbound, but did not try to escape, merely stood there, clinging to one another. A boy and a girl with hazel hair, shivering and sobbing. The muggle, the clear source of their hair colour and of their lacking in magical ability, had crumbled to the floor, now that the bounds didn't hold him up anymore. His legs had been broken, he could see.

He waited while the Death Eater who stood watch over them walked to his place, in the alley of cloaks and masks, and then raised his wand. _Confringo_ he cried, and the children were maimed beyond recognition, spread all over the floor in crimson pieces. The witch wailed were she stood, looking at the blood that now covered her, and it sounded like her soul was being torn from her. The muggle had dragged his body forward, to touch his fingers to what was left of his children, as if to ascertain himself that it was real. Upon finding a small half of a hand, his screams of horror became an insult to the wizards in the room. Rodolphus put an end to it by setting the man on fire. The flames burst from all over him all at once, and bright did they burn. His screams were now of pain, but that was an ode to the ability of those above such filth.

The witch still screamed, and wailed, and finally became silent when one of the Death Eaters stunned her into unconsciousness.

Lord Voldemort walked to him, and he had to force his breathing to steady, his heart to pace itself, lest it burst.

"Well done, Rodolphus. You don't have to pretend to be someone else," and his voice was velvet and alluring, "not amongst my ranks." Rodolphus kneeled again, out of devotion, in adoration of the wizard before him.

"Extend your left arm." Rodolphus felt the cold when his skin was exposed by a precise severing charm, and the searing hot pain that shot up his arm straight to his head that followed. He could feel the Dark Mark pulsating on his forearm, and even though his eyes were incapable of focusing, he could make out the inky black that branded him as a Death Eater. The Unbreakable Vow that compromised him to the service of the Dark Lord. The sacred oath that saw his very soul committed to Darkness.

* * *

 _Author's Notes: Prompts and Challenges_

 _Astronomy Task 3: Write about a character entering into a lifelong service._

 _Creative Collection Challenge: Pairing - Lord Voldemort; Dialogue - You don't have to pretend to be someone else_

 _365 Prompts Challenge - Hallowed_


	6. An Illusion

_Author's Notes: No specific warnings for this one. Do leave me your thoughts at the end, if you please_

 _Prompts and Challenges listed at the end, as per usual_

 _Word count: 1.315_

* * *

 **An Illusion**

 _Malfoy Manor, March 1998_

He was restless that night. Tossing and turning in his sheets, the emptiness by his side glaring at him in the dark. She was gone once more, summoned to another's chambers. He needed her, not carnally, but her physical presence by his side was soothing, he needed the smell of roses and smoke that now lingered permanently on her curls to lull him to sleep. Especially on cold nights, when the memory of Azkaban seemed to seep past his flesh, into his bones.

He gave up after a while, maybe minutes, maybe hours. There was only one other person that could calm him in nights like these. An eight-month old baby with dark curls as soothing as those of her Mother. And eyes as disquieting as her Father's. He could face those eyes though, for they were tempered with something his Master's lacked. Affection. The little girl genuinely liked Uncle Dolph, as he referred to himself around her.

Rodolphus tiptoed his way down the corridor, trying not to wake the sleeping child as he reached the door to the nursery. He stilled then, and listened. The little girl was laughing. She sometimes laughed in her sleep, and he smiled at the thought. He pushed the door open, keeping quiet not to disturb her, only to still again.

There was someone else in the room with her, the reason for her giggles. A pale, thin wizard with pale blond hair. He had fallen asleep in a large armchair, where Bella used to nurse her child in the beginning, and Delphini happily talked away in sounds and syllables only she understood, standing on Draco's legs, whose arms were still around the little girl, shielding her, a hand on her back to steady her, even in his sleep.

This girl had the charming ways of her Father. Bellatrix was devoted to her like she had never been to anyone but her Master. Narcissa cared for her with the tenderness of a Mother. Draco was her most fierce protector, won over by an infant only days old, by the vulnerability that mirrored his. Rodolphus, who should loathe this child, as she was living proof of what he had known for years, as she was the fruit of Bella's womb that she had never bestowed upon him, simply could not. Because the girl had the looks of her Mother, because her smile was all Bella's. Because he could pretend she was his.

This girl kept the broken lot of them together, perhaps more tightly than they would like to admit. Perhaps even more than the ink on their forearms. They all congregated to her when they needed fixing. She was all joy and easy smiles, made more precious by the notion of brevity they all shared. She was the Dark Lord's daughter, she would play her role in his game, and she would not be giggles and happiness for that long. Not nearly as long as a normal child.

He walked to the armchair, meaning to pick up Delphini, but three feet away from his goal Draco's eyes snapped open, his left arm holding her to his chest, his right hand pointing his wand square at Rodolphus chest.

"It's all right, Draco," he quickly said, putting his hands up, "it's just me." He dropped his hands only when Draco lowered his wand. The gods knew he was on edge all the time these days, ever fearing an attack. Delphini had wrapped her tiny arms around his neck at first, but was smiling now.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep and she was up when I checked on her, so…"

Draco shrugged his shoulders, raking his fingers through his disheveled hair, immediately made messy again by small hands.

"Can I take her now? You can go and sleep, I'll stay here."

A weird shadow came over Draco's eyes, his head tilted slightly. Delphini became quiet and still at his suspicion, then squinted and her hair became pale blonde, her eyes grey. Draco smiled at her mimicry and she was at ease and talkative again, but returned his wary eyes to Rodolphus face.

"Why do you care about her so much?" The question felt like an accusation. Draco wasn't only protective of Delphini, he was possessive too. The same way Rodolphus was, except he clearly thought that there was no reason for such feelings from the husband of the girl's Mother. "She is not family to you."

Rodolphus mused on the meaning of that. Here was a wizard raised to care only for those closest, not to compromise himself with too many close connections. One that had been taught that only family was worth sacrificing oneself for. He understood his doubt, but the explanation was simple.

"Family don't end with blood. I love her as if she was my own."

Draco scoffed, still not giving up Delphini. The boy could see through him, through the fragile belief he held that allowed him to love such a child. Rodolphus felt the hit of that scoff in his stomach, deep in his mind.

"You do not love her," the scorn of his words was tangible, "just the idea of her." Delphini had become serious once more, her magic on the verge of sparking. It was a capricious thing, Delphini's magic, still unbound by logic and teachings, that seemed to float in the air around her when anything disturbed her. It was a bit like heat radiating from a fire, distorting the air above it, sometimes it was even more visible, a little lightning storm that would jolt whoever held her at the moment.

"Give her to me, Draco, and go to sleep," he was impatient now, he too was deprived of sleep and in need of what could fix that, "you're much too tired to make any sense." Except he was actually making perfect sense, exposing the brittleness of his feelings for her.

Delphini squealed in Draco's arms, returning to his looks. Rodolphus felt a pang at his heart when she did, because his illusion was dissolving right in front of his eyes. She was harder to love like this, when he could not pretend that she was his because she no longer looked like Bella.

"You love the pretend game you play out of love for her Mother. Out of fear of the Dark Lord. You only love her when she looks like my Aunt. You would turn your wand on her, you would, should she ever mimic her Father."

That was the drop that spilled over the edge of his bowl of frustration.

Rodolphus moved like a menace towards Draco, sealing his fate. Delphini was already upset, but that disturbed her to the breaking point and her magic sparked off her small body, hurting the two of them back into their senses.

Rodolphus found himself on the floor, gasping for air, like he had just been submitted to a second-long powerful _Cruciatus_. And maybe he had, since the girl was Bellatrix's. Draco stumbled where he stood, but his legs didn't give. Delphini stared at them both, her eyes jumping from one to the other, but did not cry.

She was well aware of her ability already, it seemed, and used it to her own ends. She was afraid for a moment, so she made the fear go away. She was now taking in the view of her feat, appraising the outcome, with her dark wide eyes. Devoid of affection in that moment, cynical and clinical, entirely her Father's.

Draco took another step back when Rodolphus made to rise, but never reached for his wand. There was no need to. For he rose only to run for the door, despair in his every move. The flimsy façade had shattered.

But it would be rebuilt, again and again, as Rodolphus needed to sleep and Bella was almost never there for him.

* * *

 _Author's Notes: Prompts and Challenges_

 _Home Economics & Domestic Magic Task 1: Eggs - Write about something fragile._

 _Creative Collection Challenge: Pairing - Draco Malfoy; Dialogue - You don't love him/her, just the idea of him/her_

 _Jewel Challenge (combo): Jasper Ring - Write about someone seeking treatment for insomnia; Jasper Necklace - Write about a stabilising force within a family/relationship_

 _Caffeine Awareness Challenge: Turkish Coffee - (dialogue) "Family don't end with blood."_

 _365 Prompts Challenge: - "Family don't end with blood."_


	7. The Odd One Before She Was Out

_No specific warnings for this seventh work of my Collection. Prompts listed at the end._

 _Utterly sorry for the first version of this thing. I had to do some editing and some revising, but I think I got it now._

 _Enjoy, don't go without sharing your thoughts, please._

 _Word count: 1.225_

* * *

 **The Odd One Before She Was Out**

 _Castle Lestrange, April 1971_

Rodolphus was absolutely elated. His head had been in the clouds all day.

Two families of the Sacred Twenty-Eight would be joined in marriage that day. The Dark Lord would be present, he would officiate the ceremony, s it was also a marriage between two of his most prized Death Eaters.

Rodolphus was going to marry Bellatrix. He would commit his soul, his body, and his love to Bellatrix Black, the most sought after witch of their generation, the one witch he had ever truly loved, ever since they were fifteen year olds in Hogwarts. The one he would ever love, he knew that already too. And because his head was in the clouds over that, he had been able to turn a blind eye to Bellatrix feelings concerning their Master. She loved Rodolphus, she was happy that they were getting married. Truly happy, she had told him so. They were a perfect match, one meant to be. Gifted, young, pureblood, powerful, ambitious. All those applied to both of them. They would become a powerful couple, one of those leading pureblood society, where blood and wealth ruled and few, very few, could match such a pair.

So he went through most of the ceremony without really noticing what was going on. Up until his Bella had come down the aisle, on the arm of her father, the two of them taking measured, elegant steps, he hadn't really seen anyone. And once she was standing in front of him, he couldn't see anyone else. Not even the Dark Lord beside him. Then came the moment to kiss her lips and he felt like he was being Obliviated. And he did not care at all. Whatever had happened before didn't matter. She was his and he was hers. Forever.

Later, he stood with other men, talking but utterly distracted by the sight of his bride dancing with her father. So distracted was he that he did not see it when a girl with a cream dress approached the group and asked to speak with the groom. Alone. He didn't even listen to her first words.

"Rodolphus?"

He had to blink and shake his head a bit before he could concentrate on the voice calling him. It was strangely similar to Bella's. He forced his eyes to settle and focus on the girl before him. She was strangely similar to Bella, too. Except Bellatrix wouldn't be caught dead wearing cream.

 _Andromeda_ , his mind finally understood. He didn't reply immediately, though. He let his thoughts linger on the Black sisters. Bellatrix, the vibrant, fulminating creature. Narcissa, the quiet, perfect pureblood witch. Andromeda… that he knew not much about at all, despite being acquaintances all their lives, despite having shared Hogwarts and a Common Room with her for years. This Black was entirely unknown to him.

This brunette, softer version of Bella was a complete stranger to him.

"Miss Black," he finally greeted her, "I hope you are enjoying the party. Is everything to your liking?" His mother had gone above and beyond organizing things with Druella, painfully aware that no matter how hard she tried the proud Blacks would always have the upper hand. But Castle Lestrange was her home and she had raised it to its glory so that they could host this wedding.

Still, Andromeda chuckled under her breath. She did not mean it as a slight against the Lestranges, though. She did it in disbelief, because no one in the House of Black cared about what she enjoys, or what she thinks, or what she desires. The way of the Blacks was tough, very tough, Rodolphus knew. Bellatrix rose to the expectations and thrived, but Andromeda simply couldn't. There was always a shadow in her eyes during their society gatherings, a little hint of scorn about her. She is not a part of this world, he realized, she is always the one that never really stands out, but is still odd amidst the lot of them.

The cream of her dress is yet another statement of her difference, Rodolphus muses. Narcissa always chooses light colours that lift her own. White, summer sky blue, grass green, the pink of flesh. Bellatrix is made for dark colours. Black, deep green, crimson red, the blue of night skies. Andromeda steers clear of all those and sticks to in-betweens. Lavender but not purple, teal but not green, coral but not pink. Cream is one of her favourites, so she wrapped her body in a dress made of it today. Something similar enough to blend in, still different enough to tell.

"It is."

Her answer was so concise and he was so lost in thoughts that it took him a moment to remember his question. She didn't press the conversation. Her eyes drifted away from his figure to the sister still in the arms of their father. A father, Rodolphus suspected, that made his disappointment in his middle child very evident.

"Do you know what you're getting yourself into, Rodolphus?" Her eyes remain on her father, who twirls Bellatrix under his arm as the song comes to an end. There's a shadow there. Not jealousy, not sibling rivalry, just a yearning for acceptance.

"What do you mean, Andromeda? Bellatrix and I have been promised to each other for nearly a decade now. Yes, I am very aware of whom I'm marrying," he was on edge already, from the alcohol, from the sight of Bellatrix dancing in the arms of other men, from the desire to take her upstairs to his chambers, "and I believe your sister is too." He smiled at his bride then, raising his glass to her, with a wink that meant _I'll be there to rescue you from the lot of them in a second_.

"I just," taking a breath to steady herself, she finally turned her eyes to him again, "I just hope that you truly know Bella. Her temper, her heart. Merlin knows she likes making people miserable." She finished her flute of champagne in one gulp, in a very inelegant and unBlack fashion.

"I hope she will make you happy," she told him in a whisper.

Rodolphus had laughed at her comment. He laughed harder at her wish. Bellatrix already made him happy.

"Yes, she does like making people miserable. But so do I, dear Andromeda. And we like it better when we do it together."

He walked past her at that, not really caring that her face had paled considerably. He walked past her and through the small crowd at the edge of the dance floor, gathering his beautiful bride in his arms, dropping a chaste kiss on her ruby red lips. They moved to the pace of a song, and then another, and then another. When the songs were over, they moved out of the ballroom, upstairs, and he never once thought of the girl in the cream dress, of her words. Just the same way he never thought of all the times Bella's eyes shifted from him to the Dark Lord during the day, during the night, of the last glance she took over her shoulder.

He would remember those words later. Years later, but still. The words of the girl in cream would come back to haunt him, time and time again. But she would be gone.

* * *

 _Author's Notes: Prompts and Challenges_

 _Creative Collection Challenge: Pairing - Andromeda Tonks; Dialogue - I hope he/she will make you happy_

 _Caffeine Awareness Challenge: Café Crema - (color) Cream_

 _365 Prompts Challenge 130. Event – Wedding_


	8. An Itch in His Mind

_No specific warnings for this part either. Prompts and Challenges to be found at the end_

 _Enjoy, please drop me a review, it keeps me going_

 _Word count - 810_

* * *

 **An Itch in His Mind**

 _Malfoy Manor, January 1997_

He finds the rat mumbling to himself, crouched in a corner of the room. Rodolphus was hoping for some peace and quiet after calming Bella, but he will relinquish his needs if he can bear witness to the disintegration of this most fowl, undeserving creature.

He keeps his hands on his ears, scratching his scalp with filthy nails. His teeth dig in on his bottom lip, now bearing what's an ulcer in its own right.

 _Master has been at work. Teaching his pet rat that shortcomings come with pain. I wonder if he will ever serve the rat as dinner to his familiar._

He holds his thoughts as the mumbling becomes something he can discern. Words at first, then half sentences, eventually a whole one.

"Wormtail… right, Scabbers… displeased… unworthy… crossed your friends… sorry Master… you shouldn't have betrayed your friends."

 _So the rat still has a conscience_ , Rodolphus muses. He is tempted to meow, maybe Conjure a cat out of thin air and see what happens. This creature should not be allowed in the same room as them, this creature should not bear the mark that sets the dark elite apart. But that is a secret he commits to the deepest recesses of his mind, under layers and layers of shields. He will not doubt his Master in his judgement. For he wants the rat to feel the burn of the snake and skull on its forearm, to screech under his command, to serve him, and the Dark Lord shall have everything he wishes, and they with him.

The rodent keeps going, completely unaware of his presence. He wonders, in between more mumbling about Scabbers and Wormtail, if he still remembers his name. His given name, his family's name. He wonders what sort of cat he should Conjure. A tabby? A Siamese? Maybe a black cat. He laughs inwardly, thinking that Bellatrix would Conjure a whole bag of half-kneazle cats and set them loose on Wormtail.

He decides to put an end to all the inarticulate sentences pouring out of the rat's mouth. He just won't use cats.

"Peter? What's wrong?"

All speaking comes to a halt. His finger nails scratch and scratch and scratch, digging, while his breathing loses all rhythm. A scared little mouse. And then his eyes go wide, focusing on the man at the door. Rodolphus is quite sure Wormtail can only make out his outline against the light, none of his features visible, which should make for some interesting thoughts. He decides to take a peek into his mind, shattered as it is there will be no walls, no voids, no falling depths to stop him.

And he finds something glorious in there. Thoughts of Wormtail, and Padfoot, and Moony, and Prongs. All with faces he recognizes, two already dead, and two that won't make it past the war. Wormtail doesn't seem capable of discerning between the living and the dead though. The thoughts in his mind whirl and whirl, unable to connect properly, clinging to reality and never really finding it. _Peter, he called me Peter,_ Rodolphus listens to, in a voice that used to be a schoolboy's, _no one calls me Peter anymore._ And then all thoughts subside as one clear idea comes to the front of that broken mind.

"Padfoot? Is that you, Padfoot? I missed you, I'm so sorry."

Rodolphus feels like throwing his head back in laughter. Of course he thinks of him as Sirius. Old blood runs deep. None of Wormtail's other friends would stand like that, nonchalant and commanding at the same time.

He keeps some of his focus on the rat's mind as he prods it once more, almost poking it. He plays Sirius. He plays an alive, forgiving Sirius, snorting a bit at that idea.

 _Forgiving Blacks! As if._

"I missed you too, Wormtail. Why are you sorry?"

A string of images passes the broken man mind in quick succession, while Rodolphus struggles to keep up. He does catch details here and there. Potter, that the rat thinks of as Prongs, with a red haired woman. Their Master, before the fall. The scorching pain of a Dark Mark.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, but I had to. He will kill me. I don't want to die."

The images keep coming. The rat is stuck in a wheel made of past regrets and ghosts, mingling time lines and fusing happenings together.

"This is not going to work. I don't know why we keep trying, it never works."

Utterly lost, the little mouse in its wheel.

"What isn't going to work, Wormtail?"

"Our plans. Escaping. There's no escape. You can't run from the dark, it always catches up with you. You can't run from him."

"No, you can't."

He approaches the rat, setting him free to run with a Cheshire cat smile.

* * *

 _Author's Notes: Prompts and Challenges_

 _Creative Collection Challenge: Pairing - Peter Pettigrew; Dialogue - This is not going to work. I don't know why we keep trying, it never works_

 _Caffeine Awareness Challenge: Corretto - (word count) 810 words_

 _365 Prompts Challenges: - "I missed you"_


	9. A Prophecy Unfulfilled

_No specific warnings for this part of my Collection. Prompts listed at the end as usual._

 _Don't go without a review please_

 _Word count – 1,606_

* * *

 **A Prophecy Unfulfilled**

He always casts a _Lumos_ when he visits. She shies from the light at first, every time. This place is much too dark. So he dims it a little and lets her come closer, enjoying the sight of her enjoying the pale light. It's not warm, it's nowhere near to sunlight, but it's enough to keep the memory of light alive in the girl's mind.

He probably shouldn't think of her like that, not anymore. He had last seen her when she was still a baby, and he had found a grown witch after his release, but she would always be a girl in his mind. It's how he thought of her all along, when he himself was bound within these walls.

These doomed walls, made of misery themselves, after years and years of being coated with the screams of wizards and witches losing their minds, day by day, one rotten peck in the lips at a time.

That's why he visits so often. He has a duty to Delphini. He promised to keep her safe that last day, and he failed miserably. He left her behind to try and reach out, one last time, for her Mother, and in that he failed them both. Failed them all. The Dark Lord died. Bellatrix died. Delphini was hidden within walls almost as damaging as those of her current cell, deprived of a proper childhood, deprived of an education, deprived of a family. Deprived of love.

So here she is now, eyes closed and a smile on her pretty face under the pale light of his spell. He makes it a little brighter now, and will continue to do so until this place shines as much as it should. As if there was a star inside the crammed space, light bursting out through every possible place.

The Dementors fly by the window, keeping a safe distance from the guards _Patronuses_. The happiness, small as it may be, draws them in. Rodolphus shivers whenever he enters Azkaban, his very bones remembering the years he spent here, his very soul recoiling deeper inside him. He cannot cast a _Patronus_ himself. If he ever could, the years he spent in Azkaban took that possibility from him. If he could, he would, for the smile on Delphini's face would be brighter for it.

She has a love for magic. Never allowed a wand of her own, she is powerful enough to bend other's to her will. She showed him her ability, several times. He learned of her self-taught ways. The Rowle witch was never remotely good to her, but there was a library for the little hidden girl to explore, and old wands about the house that she could use. The Ministry never knew of her until it was too late, so she was free to explore. He has heard her tales many times, and never tires. He feels like he is making up for his mistakes. Making up for all the things she was ever denied.

He feels like he is the father to Bella's child. He speaks about her often too. It's the only way Delphini has of knowing who her Mother was, what she was like, her tastes, her quirks.

But there's another side to this girl. It's there, on her face too. She is a lot like Bellatrix, but once she left her features show true, it was all too clear.

Lost the pale blond hair with its blue extravaganza, black curls emerged. They are not wild and kinky like Bella's were. No, they are shiny, perfect locks that tumble down her back just so, even when matted with dirt. The wavy hair of her Father in his youth.

Lost the passion that shined through her eyes for those amazing months she was free to fly higher and higher and soar closer to the stars, the hunger her Mother shared, her dark eyes shined of plans and calculations. Even after years of being locked up in here, her mind food for the spectres, she still plans her escape. She does not tell of it, but he can see it in her. The solemnity of her Father lost in thoughts is right here, in front of him.

Lost the roundness of youth and hope, her features resemble those of his Master when he was young. Or he supposes they do, for he cannot be sure. But there are little deviations from Bella to Delphini's face, deviations that come from Him.

Lost the mockery of Diggory, there is only Black and Riddle to this girl. He faces it every time he visits too, and that is much more painful than any horde of Dementors feeding on his mind. Because it is evidence of her diluted blood. The blood of his precious Bellatrix diluted by that of the monster their Master had become by the time he sired Delphini. The monster, Rodolphus suspects, that was always there, lurking beneath the surface of his skin, waiting for the shedding.

His Master was not his own ideal. And his daughter is not it either. He found the purest blood to which to latch his soiled one, and diluted it for his own purposes. To bring forth his Augurey, his omen bird that carried his grandeur on its wings, his oracle of an everlasting reign.

The wizarding kind has no kings and queens, how could he presume to rule a kingdom?

His omen bird flied though. Spreading her wings and reaching ever higher, until she was so close to the sun that her feathers burned. Like her Father, brought down on the verge of glory, by the very same wizard.

History repeats itself, why should his Master rise this time?

She asks him to make the cell brighter. He complies immediately, smiling in earnest. Her gaze remains on the wand in his hand. He has no idea as to why they allow him to go to her carrying a wand now. The guards used to demand he left it behind, but stopped asking about it after a while. And he never bothered telling. All he wants is to make her happy for as long as he can.

Her eyes stay on his wand, until he fears for her. Should she be mad enough to try and take it, he wouldn't fight her, he couldn't. She would blast the door apart and immediately she would be bathed in green light, and he with her. His mind takes a second to wonder about how bad that could be, and it instantly lashes out against itself. The voices that lingered after Azkaban scream inside his mind. He had failed her Mother, he would not see her delivered to the clutches of Death.

"Stop, Delphini. You'll never make it out of here."

"You did. Once."

"I was locked back in, wasn't I? And it was much worse the second time around," he remembers those first days, when all he could feel was the missing and the lacking of things he had reacquired, made unfathomably more precious by once being thought lost forever, "trust me."

"I just miss it," she whispers, her eyes still on the wand, "I miss the feel of magic coursing through me, through a wand, out into the world." The yearning in her eyes is almost a physical entity on itself. And it is beautiful in his eyes because it's all Bella's.

But Bella is suddenly gone to give way to Him once more. The yearning turned jealousy over something she cannot have.

"You cannot have a wand, you know this." He can swear there is a spark of red in her eyes during a second.

"What can I have then? I was denied everything all my life," she is most definitely His daughter in that moment, the anger in her is just the same, "is it that much to ask? Can I not have one single thing of mine?"

"All we have is each other," he solemnly tells her, looking into her wide dark eyes, "I will never leave you alone, Delphini." It's a vow, a promise, an oath most sacred. And the hope he gives her is enough to bring Bella's eyes back. And how they shine in splendour under his light. Because that is all she truly wants, this omen girl, this token made flesh. To have someone. Someone to call her own. She has no one to call Father, and no one to call Mother, but she has him to call Rodolphus.

For the first time in her life, she is given the luxury of a family.

There's a bang at the door, a heavy fist pounds on it, signalling the end of their time together. He will leave, and the light will leave with him.

"Please don't leave me alone," she tells him, time and time again, whenever he has to go, "you always take too long to come back." It breaks his heart, that plea. He always manages to stay a little longer than what he is allowed to, but he always has to go.

The pounding reverberates off the door and trough the cell once more.

In the end, he leaves her.

"Please don't leave me alone," her voice breaking and his heart with it, "please Rodolphus, I'll go insane." It's the last thing he hears before they lock the doors again. And he damns whatever gods there may be, for Bella said the same words to him once, long ago.

He couldn't keep her from losing her sanity in the end. He only hopes he can stop it this time.

Even if History likes to repeat itself.

* * *

 _Author's Notes: Prompts and Challenges_

 _Creative Collection Challenge: Pairing – Delphini; Dialogue - Please don't leave me alone_

 _Jewel Challenge: Topaz Necklace: Write about the Lumos spell_

 _Caffeine Awareness Challenge: ViennaCoffee- (word) Diluted_

 _365 Prompts Challenge: - "All we have is each other."_


	10. A Fix to His Crave

_Author's Notes: Warnings for Dub-Con/Non-Con elements, and psychological abuse_

 _A very, very heartfelt thank you to the awesome guest that left me so many reviews on this. A really huge thank you :)_

 _Prompts concerning this can be found at the bottom_

 _Word count – 1,707_

* * *

 **A Fix to His Crave**

 _Malfoy Manor, May 1996_

"This wasn't supposed to happen."

Rodolphus sniffed his contempt at the witch's statement. It didn't bother him, not remotely enough to answer. He felt the body next to his move, the witch's head turning to face him.

He did not face her. He was enjoying his much deserved rest. He had trained for the entire day, trying to become again what he once had been. A lethal weapon at the hands of his Master.

His body was sore. He was still convalescing from Azkaban, but he was well enough to duel. He had a month to make himself worthy of the Dark Mark, to train and mend, so that he could be of use to the Dark Lord. In a month, he would be part of an important mission. The details were still obscure to him, but he trusted his Master fully. He would be told what was needed when it was needed, not before.

"This wasn't supposed to happen anymore, I told you that last time."

His eyes remained on the canopy above him. He heard her take a deep breath, as if she was going to start some tirade. Not a word came out of her mouth, just air, slightly sobbed.

 _Let her regret it, then_ , he selfishly thought. He had had his pleasure, taken from her body, but he had given nothing in return. She had been his reward. He had taken her, face down on the bed, enjoying his recompense while ruminating on what he really missed.

He had walked in her bedroom, not caring enough to knock and wait for permission. It turned out that Rabastan had been right, after all. Another body was capable of erasing Bella off his mind. He could manipulate another's flesh, touch other expanses of skin, enter another's womanly folds, grunt into another witch's ear, nib at different shoulders, find his pleasure in between another's thighs and lips. He could do all those things and forget about Bellatrix. But the second he was done, the second his mind came down from the high, that very same second, his mind was done pretending, and Bella would re-emerge. Every single time.

So here he was. Naked, on a bed staring at the canopy, his chest still heaving, but already thinking of her.

He could see Alecto's face out of the corner of his right eye. She lifted her head from the pillow, using her elbows to support her upper body off the mattress. She kept her eyes on him, obviously and hopelessly waiting for an answer. Some sort of reprieve.

None was given.

Her features talked of the frustration at having been left incomplete. Wanting, panting, yearning. She didn't dare ask for completion. She never did. No, Alecto was not Bella, who would demand for the pleasure to be returned. He had never left her interrupted, she had never allowed it.

Alecto settled in her pillow again, slowly, almost scarily, hedging her fingers towards him, but never reaching his once again muscular arm.

He pulled both his arms up, to rest crossed beneath his head, on the pillow. His mind kept running on the idea of Bella. He stayed there, utterly lost in memories of her, until Alecto shifted again. She had turned her back to him, covering her legs and her chest with the covers, curling up on herself. Suddenly, he resented the witch beside him on the sheets.

He let his eyes drift up and down her curves, observing. Noticing every detail about her and coming to the same conclusion on every point. She was lacking, inferior.

Her blood was soiled and so she was further away from perfection.

Her skin was not alabaster run through by beautiful, delicate, veins of blue. Her skin was pale enough, but uneven, painted with red blotches and freckles. Her skin was not soft as silk. It was tarnished by pox and pimple scars.

She had curves to her body, but not the gentle swells of the body he craved. Her waist not so small, her body stocky, not so toned by battle, untouched by Azkaban. Wherever Bellatrix was dainty and light, this witch was thickset and dull.

Every touch of his hands was sketched on her skin, a red angry blemish for every pull and push at her flesh. Bella's skin never blotched, never erupted from his touch. She would bruise beautifully under his teeth and lips, covered in small purple delicate blooms the day after, but never would she exhibit these common reddish blots.

Alecto was common, he realized, but she was also all he got. Her lifeless, dull brown-blonde hair, her usual-blue eyes, her bland face, her ordinary body. That was all Rodolphus was given instead of his wife. His very extraordinary, sin-made-flesh wife.

"Why are you always so rough?" She had finally gathered enough of her common meek self to talk to him.

He did not answer. He was above her in everything: rank, value, blood. Everything. And he would not justify himself to someone beneath him.

He was always rough, and fast, and on the verge of careless. He sought her out, always, never the other way around. He walked in her room, never the contrary. He claimed her body, not against her will, but never to her truthful liking. She was a remedy, a fix for his cravings, and he always took her like that. Hastily, with a certain amount of despair to his gestures, with an almost harmful will. His was a thirst that could not be quenched. A craving impossible to satisfy to the fullest.

She knew that, but still she asked why. She dared going further tonight.

"Why do you still think of her? She hardly ever thinks of you-"

"Leave it be, Alecto," his voice became a growl, "you do not want to thread that path." His tone was a clear threat, but the witch paid no attention whatsoever, incapable of reading the subtleties of him.

"I'm just saying you could consider other possibilities…" Her voice had become a whisper, lower and lower with every word.

A malignant, mocking, deranged laughter echoed in the room.

"Is that what you think, Alecto? That we could be a possibility? Is that what you dream of at night? Of the two of us together after the war?" He let his vicious mirth resound again.

"I just want you to be happy, even if it is not with me."

"Who would ever be happy with you? Some dim witted excuse of a wizard like your brother? I don't think you'd be able to find someone quite like him, mistakes like that don't happen often."

"She doesn't deserve you-"

"Get out," he spat-growled the order at the canopy above him, "leave me alone, Carrow." The surname used as a clear statement of rank, establishing the hierarchy that she seemed to have forgotten.

"But this is my room-"

She was not given the chance to finish her sentence. Rodolphus leaped up from the mattress, standing naked, and striding to her side of the bed, a beast on its prey. He grabbed her chin, hurtfully, making her face his eyes, watching hers deflate of any bravery before his anger. His deathly nature shining through his every pore, like a dark beacon was alight inside him.

He is not in his prime anymore, Azkaban took that from him. He had lost something he could not retrieve in there, and he lacked the sheer madness that Bella used to make up for it. He would never be the young, vicious lieutenant again, but he remained lethal all the same.

The look he gave Alecto left no room for doubt. She would either leave the issue alone, or she would suffer for her newfound boldness. He would squash those inferior to him, no matter who, no matter where.

She apologised in the smallest voice she was capable of, and made to move out of the bed, wrapping her body with the bedsheet she clung to her breast. He meant to walk back to his side of the bed then, but he found himself too angered to simply lie back down and rest his not-quite-sated body. His mood was dark, and dark thoughts only made Bellatrix an acuter pain in his mind.

He looked over his shoulder, to the witch walking away from him, towards the clothes scattered on the floor. He had a craving. He had a fix there too.

He took two long strides to her, taking hold of her left arm, his fingers digging into the flesh, making her yelp as she was turned forcefully on herself. He flung her towards the bed once more, and watched as she landed on her belly without any hint of grace. He ripped the sheet from her, leaving red welts on her skin, and pressed his anger-aroused manhood to her backside.

She whimpered when he knifed a hand in between her thighs, applying pressure to her nether lips, still wet and messy from before. She was shaking beneath him, and he liked it. Those inferior should be afraid of their betters. He massaged her, over her folds, never dwelling inside, until she shivered with something else too.

"You can't even deny me, can you Alecto?"

"N-no, mmphf, no."

"And why is that?"

"Be-because I don't, oh," her voiced hitched then, when he allowed a finger to slide directly over her nub, "I don't deserve you."

"Because you know you're not worthy, but you want to belong so much, to prove yourself so worthy that you'll lower yourself to this. A worthy witch would fight me; a better witch would claim me as much as I claimed her."

He shoved her legs apart with his knees, removing his hand and entering her with a grunt, while he pressed her body down with his hands on her waist, pivoting her hips to best serve him. He took his pleasure once more, in quick, pounding motions. He lowered his mouth to her left ear, taking a full hand of hair and using it to turn her head.

"Bellatrix would hex me if I ever left her yearning like I leave you. But you're worthless. Don't ever forget your place again, Carrow."

* * *

 _Author's Notes: Prompts and Challenges_

 _Creative Collection Challenge: Pairing - Alecto Carrow; Dialogue - I just want you to be happy. Even if it is not with me_

 _Caffeine Awareness Challenge: Seville Coffee - Write about relaxing after a hard day_

 _365 Prompts Challenge: 138. First Line – "This wasn't supposed to happen."_


	11. Brothers in Arms

_Author's Notes: No specific warnings for this part of my collection. Enjoy, and let me know what you think of it_

 _Word count - 959_

* * *

 **Brothers in Arms**

 _Malfoy Manor, April 1996_

Rodolphus was slightly inebriated, enjoying the light-headedness provided by the firewhisky. He liked feeling like this, like he was floating inside his own body. He also liked that his body felt warm.

Warmth was the thing he coveted the most these days. His body had healed, as much as it was likely to at least, but still the cold lingered in his bones. So he drank firewhisky in the dark, before a nearly dying flame.

The door clicked as the knob was turned from the other side, and a wizard's silhouette stood in the threshold. The figure was tall, but still lanky. Rodolphus smirked. It would take a while before Dolohov reacquired his burly built.

"I thought I'd find you here," the silhouette said, walking inside and closing the door behind him, "and I sure hope that you've saved some of that Blishen's for me."

"Antonin," Rodolphus' voice was drawled now, "yes, there's something for you in here, still." He smiled in earnest, waving the half empty bottle at the other man.

Antonin pointed his wand at the hearth, resuscitating the fire, then at the pile of wood besides it, levitating a couple of logs into the fireplace, to feed the flames. Only then did he slump into an armchair, wide and regal, Conjuring a tumbler and filling it generously.

"You should probably stop drinking now," he advised. Rodolphus snorted.

"And let you catch up? I can do that. Then will be sloshed together."

"No, you idiot," it was Antonin's turn to laugh, "we both know what happens when you overindulge in spirits. The gardens suffer." He grinned smugly, gulping the firewhisky down, and refilling both their tumblers.

"You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"You mean the afternoon you got so stupendously drunk that you walked outside during a blizzard and started fighting the bushes? Calling them Prewett and Dumbledore and what not?" He laughed loudly then, sounding rather like a content lion.

"I'll never forget Bella's face when she found us-"

"Shut up, Rodolphus, you barely remembered your own name that day! Bellatrix was quite the sight, though, body-binding you and levitating your drunken ass inside so that she could force that sober up potion down your mouth."

They laughed together, happily, for the first time in years, sipped from their glasses and then let the silence have its turn in their conversation. They were comfortable like that, being quiet around one another. They had been close friends since Dolohov had joined the cause. Even at Azkaban, they would talk sometimes, at the beginning, before the spectres erased the memory of who dwelled in the cell next door.

Azkaban had a way of making them quiet, even now, of shutting them inside their minds, alone. Rodolphus huffed, for being alone in his thoughts always led to the same thing. Ruminating about Bella.

There was a low rumble in Antonin's chest after a while, but he raised a hand apologetically before Rodolphus could snap at him.

"I know what that's like too."

"What's that?" His voice was heavier from the alcohol, his tongue becoming harder to handle.

"Missing someone you never really had. Missing happiness that was never yours."

"What on earth do you mean?" The vicious side to his soul, the one Azkaban had nurtured almost lovingly, was coiling inside.

"I know they don't understand, but I always will."

Rodolphus wanted to get up and fight then, but he knew all he could manage in his state was an embarrassing tumble from the sofa to the floor. Antonin shook his head, as if assuring him that it was no good.

"There was a woman like her for me too. A beautiful creature, with hazelnut hair and eyes the colour of the sky reflected on ice. A pureblood witch bred and raised among the wizarding elite of St. Petersburg. I was madly in love with her, and I believed her to be in love with me too."

Antonin was quiet then, and Rodolphus raised his eyes to him. There had been many women in Dolohov's life as a Death Eater. A bit too many probably. He should have seen it before, he should have known what he was doing. Drowning the images of the unobtainable witch in the skin of others, never allowing himself to become attached ever again. Like he did.

"She was in love with me at some point, I think, but there was another. More handsome, with a larger estate, able to provide her with a grandeur I never could, and she was simply smitten from then on. I was furious, I duelled with the bloody wizard for her heart, but she got in between us." A sombre shadow descended on Antonin's eyes that now watched the drink dance within the glass.

"Was she killed by a stray curse?"

"No. She did worse. She got us to lower our wands, walked to me and gave me the sweetest kiss. She tasted of rose tea. Not even Azkaban could rob me of that. It was poison that kiss. It was meant to save her lover and he wasn't me."

How Rodolphus knew that feeling. How many times had Bella soothed him with a kiss so that he wouldn't do anything stupid? How many times had she kissed him only to keep him from lashing out at their Master during those first few years?

"So, you see, I understand. Lucius and Rabastan never will, but I do. I miss Aleksandra Kuragina every time I think of what happiness would feel like."

They emptied their tumblers once more, refilling them swiftly. Both lost in memories, both imagining inaccessible women in the dance of the fire, both losers in the battle for love.

* * *

 _Author's Notes: Prompts and Challenges_

 _Creative Collection Challenge: Pairing - Antonin Dolohov; Dialogue - I know they don't understand you, but I always will_

 _Caffeine Awareness Challenge: Latte - Write about spending time with friends_

 _Jewel Challenge: Amber Bracelet - Write about someone who misses someone else_

 _365 Prompts Challenge: 109 Dialogue - "You're never going to let that go, are you?"_


	12. Unwilling Guardians

_Author's Notes: No specific warnings for this work. Prompts and challenges at the end, as usual_

 _Word count - 1721_

* * *

 _ **Unwilling Guardians**_

 _Rowle House, May 2_ _nd_ _, 1998_

Rodolphus had pushed her inside the second she opened the door, and blurted out his plea the next one.

"I need you to keep her safe. I don't know what's happening at Hogwarts, but I can't risk it. It's been too long," he was dishevelled, holding a child wrapped in a blanket close to his chest, "something must have gone wrong."

Rodolphus extended the sleeping bundle to Euphemia, but she did not move at all. Not right away.

She had to take a moment to disperse the yearning in her arms, to keep from launching forward and hold the beautiful child close to her heart.

She had to take a second moment to remind herself that this was wrong. All wrong. Holding on to that child today meant accepting her doom, not her happiness. So she took a small step back.

Rodolphus saw it in her eyes. The change from a witch willing to love a pretty little baby that would be hers to a calculating woman that found herself cornered.

"You're leaving her here then," there was resentment in every syllable, "and why is that? Because I can risk it?"

"Don't play the fool now, Euphemia. It's unbecoming."

He extended Delphini to her once more. The little girl nuzzled against the fluffy folds of her greenish grey blanket, searching for his warmth. How he wanted to hold her close and tight in that second. He forced his emotions back under control. He needed to ascertain Delphini's safety. Because he needed to make sure the girl still had a mother.

Euphemia seethed, crossing her arms, determined not to take the child. She couldn't, but how she wanted to. There was a buzz in her head, just like Thorfinn had warned her. The Lestrange was a skilled _Legillimens_ , and she had never learned _Occlumency_. She shook her head, averting his eyes.

Rodolphus hid is smile, but in that moment he knew he would win this battle. They both knew it. Euphemia had dreamed of a child of her own for years, but Thorfinn had spent fourteen years in Azkaban and she had never been able to carry a child to term. Not before his arrest, and certainly not after his release. Rodolphus knew all that. He had spent months planting the idea in Thorfinn's mind, knowing that he would carry the seed all the way to the witch before him, and nurture it in her mind.

They also knew that Euphemia could indeed risk it. She had never actively participated in the Dark Lord's cause; there was no mark on her left forearm. If Thorfinn were to die today, she would be the widow of a war hero. If Thorfinn were to be captured today, she would be the wife of a convicted Death Eater, one to be given to the Dementors soon enough, he was sure. If her house was stormed by Aurors in the aftermath, she could claim the girl as being hers and her husband's. She had kept away from the world ever since the war had started, no one would challenge her words. No one would ever imagine the true origins of the girl he held.

"Don't pretend you don't want to hold her. You've always wanted a child, this is your chance. Take it. Take her."

"Really, Rodolphus, really? That's the card you choose to play? Throwing the fact that I'm barren in my face won't help your cause." Rodolphus realized he might have played the wrong card indeed. Euphemia had never come to terms with not being a mother. She usually kept her distance from children, and they were always a touchy subject.

"Just watch her for a while, Euphemia. I need to check on Bella-"

"Don't pretend you're doing this just so that you can go check on your deranged wife, Rodolphus! Admit it," Euphemia now had to hold her elbows to prevent her arms from reaching for the soft blanket, "you're afraid. You're doing this because you think there's a chance that the Dark Lord will fail."

"Hush, Euphemia! Have you gone mad? That's treason. He will punish you for saying that."

"If your fears become true, there will be absolutely no punishment. And where will that leave me? Stuck to this child of his," her lips curled in disgust, "born only to be of use to him, and none of the usual reasons to have offspring." Still, her eyes lingered on the warm looking bundle, on the wisp of black curls fallen over a smooth, pale forehead.

"The Dark Lord will not fail," there was absolute devotion, absolute faith in his voice, "and Bella will come for her daughter after the Battle. You need only take care of Delphini for a few hours."

 _Delphini_ , Euphemia registered, _the girl's name is Delphini_. Rodolphus saw it happen in her eyes and knew he was one step closer.

"And if Bellatrix dies?" There was malice in Euphemia's eyes, and she knew that she had delivered a powerful blow, for she saw Rodolphus hands cling to the blanket for a second, and his throat bob. A step back.

"Then the Dark Lord himself will come for his heiress."

"Not you?"

"Leaving his child with you and going to Hogwarts marks me to die. Disobedience is not taken lightly by our Master, and you know it. I was given direct orders to not let her out of my sight."

Euphemia snorted. And in that moment Rodolphus knew she could see through his cover. He wouldn't throw himself on a path to death, not willingly. No, he knew something must have gone wrong, and now she knew he knew. He needed to obtain the upper hand once more. So he decided to play his trump card.

He carefully angled the bundle in his arms. The ten-month-old baby was on display now. A treasure of a sight, a pretty jewel being dangled in front of coveting eyes. Rodolphus heard Euphemia let out a sigh of wonder. Then he pushed further. This was break it or make it. He kept his eyes on the baby, but he spoke to her.

"Stop pretending, Euphemia. You want her. You want to raise her with Thorfinn. Just think of all the praise you'll earn from our Master, of when he rewards the two of you for raising her. You know Bellatrix is not fit to raise a child; she loves chaos and pain too much. You know the Malfoys have fallen from grace. There's only you for her."

"You won't be there for her?"

"I'll be dead." He caressed Delphini's cheek, missing her already.

Then he watched Euphemia's arms open and reach for Delphini, a silent plea. Only then did he raise his eyes to her, as he stepped closer and extended the little girl. Euphemia was silent for long minutes, just staring in wonder.

"And if the Dark Lord fails? How will I provide for her?"

Rodolphus held back a laugh. Slytherin through and through, the both of them. Cornered she may be, Euphemia knew how to play the game. She already had her treasure, but she wanted more.

"Both my gold and that of the Malfoy's will make its path to your vault. That was part of the deal I discussed with Thorfinn."

"So you will not come for her?"

"Not for a long time. I'll be a fugitive. If I ever get caught, there will be questions about her, they'll cast spells, they'll find out the truth. Want do you think they'll do to her? They left their saviour to be raised by Muggles."

Euphemia held Delphini closer to her chest, already feeling the need to protect her. She looked so frail. Euphemia's brow frowned. This wasn't over yet, Rodolphus thought. But then Delphini stirred, made a little sound, and opened her wide eyes. She looked up, and instead of crying, she smiled.

Rodolphus knew then that he would never hold Delphini again, and his arms hurt already. But he needed to get to Hogwarts now. He was about to turn when Euphemia spoke again.

"I can't believe you did this to me. You've ruined my life."

She said those words to him, but her eyes were on her. Adoring, marvelling, loving. Rodolphus took one last look at the child he wished were his, and then kept his eyes steady on Euphemia's forehead. She eventually looked up from her trance, and their eyes locked.

He had to be sure. Yes, she did feel like he was ruining her life by trusting her with this baby. Yes, she was drowning in disbelief that she was being given a chance at motherhood. But how she had wanted it, craved it. She had had dreams of something happening to him, and to Bella, and to the Malfoys, just so that she could have Delphini.

"And how is giving you Delphini ruining your life?"

"She's poison. You know that. A poison so sweet I'll want more and more of it," she was now smiling to the girl in her arms, but there was regret in her voice, "and you won't keep me from having it."

"I couldn't keep myself."

He extended his hand to caress Delphini's forehead one last time. Then he turned, leaving without looking back, without another word. He should tell Euphemia about all the things the little girl liked and disliked. About the way she slept better if her crib was by a window and she could see the stars. About the way she liked to gnaw on apple slices after her soup. But he couldn't. His other poison awaited.

Euphemia never saw him leave, too enthralled to notice anything but the child in her embrace. She would sleep in her rooms, she decided. She would keep her close at all times. Even if a little something, at the back of her mind, told her to be cautious with the born of Darkness.

There was no more word of Rodolphus that day. Bellatrix never came running through her doors to retrieve her treasure. The Dark Lord never returned for his prophetic offspring. Just like Thorfinn never made it home.

And Euphemia's willingness to love departed in the face of his absence. For the girl was poison, and she had no one to love her for.

* * *

 _Author's Notes: Prompts and Challenges_

 _Creative Collection Challenge: Pairing - Euphemia Rowle; Dialogue - I can't believe you did this to me. You've ruined my life_

 _Caffeine Awareness Challenge: Black Coffee - Write about a bitter person_

 _Jewel Challenge: Nuumite Bracelet - Write about something/someone providing protection_

 _365 Prompts Challenge: 154. Item – Blanket_


	13. A Floral Diversion

_Author's Notes: Warnings for smut and lemons. In the Wizarding World, the witch involved would be of age, but she is under eighteen._

 _Prompts and challenges all listed at the end. Please don't go without a review._

 _Word count - 1409_

* * *

 _ **A Floral Diversion**_

 _Malfoy Manor, Easter 1998_

Rodolphus was panting atop a pale body, sweaty skin that had a beautiful blush to it now, arousal exuding from every pore. He took in the delicate patterns of the web of blue veins just underneath. She was not a beauty, not like Bella, but there was breeding to her features. Her body was slender, with its long limbs wrapped around him. The wanton creature moaned her completion, extending her neck as far back as it would go, and he took the chance to bite the pulse point that he could see running frantically. He grunted his orgasm into her skin, and let his body weight on hers for a few moments before settling next to her.

She curled up to him, head on his shoulder, hand on his chest, and he held her waist. He was never rough with this one, not unless she wanted him to. He had found her willing in the summer, and when she had come home during Christmas he couldn't wait anymore. This time, she had come to him, fresh out of the Hogwarts Express. She was adamant about her beliefs in blood purity, she was a devoted servant to the Dark Lord, and she was of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. She still wasn't Bella, but his mind wouldn't return to her so quickly when they were together.

Bella had once been like this, not exactly, but close enough that he could use his memories to fool himself. So he faced her and looked for her lips. She was so young, she felt so right on his lips, her eyes felt nice on him. They remained still in each other's arms for a long time, looking into each other's eyes. He was comparing hers, but she was dreaming about his. He had to put an end to it.

But then she moved to kiss him again, taking the lead, exploring his mouth with her tongue, and he couldn't keep from answering. How long had it been since he had last felt desired? The girl moved her leg, letting her tight rub against his manhood, quickly awakening now. She smiled into the kiss, and let her hand drift down there, to play with him.

"Pansy," he hissed, "stop being a tease. Put it somewhere in you."

She laughed. The cheeky Slytherin laughed while she spread little pecks all over his torso. Her hand busy all along. Rodolphus decided he didn't have time for this, there was going to be a meeting later, and he needed his mind sharp. He couldn't let Pansy tease him just to leave him wanting more and waiting until after dinner. No, not today. He moved both his hands to her waist, meaning to turn her on her back and simply take her, but she was quicker.

She straddled him with swift movements, sitting on his hips, caressing his throbbing member against her, sliding her soaked folds over him, before lining them up and sinking on him. She moved gingerly, slowly, guiding his hands to her breasts. He sat up, latching his mouth to her left breast while he massaged the other, and that made her pick up her pace. He met her trusts, making sure to rub her just so, delighting in the sounds escaping from her lips.

Pansy dropped her head on his shoulder, panting through her orgasm. Rodolphus grabbed a handful of her dark hair, smooth and silky, so that he could kiss her through it. His other hand roamed her body, finding purchase on her hip, guiding her to keep moving until he too was lost to a blinding white emptiness in his mind.

They sat like that for a while, before he spanked her lightly.

"Off me now, little succubus," he ordered with a playful smile, "I have work to do."

She remained on the bed, splayed, watching him cast cleaning spells on the both of them, then watched him dress, silently. She beckoned him closer with a slow movement of her fingers, and supported herself on one elbow to kiss him. When his eyes opened, he saw the adoration in hers, and couldn't help but wonder what his future could be. He liked her enough, and she was in love with him. He wondered if he would still be required to keep his façade of a marriage after the Dark Lord's rise to power. He could play pretend with Delphini, but he would like to have a child of his own, a Lestrange heir.

His mind rioted at that thought. He could keep it off Bella for quite a while, but his charade would only go so far. Having children with another witch simply wasn't right. Waking up with another body wrapped around him was pleasant enough, but if it wasn't Bella's then he didn't want it forever. Taking a woman's body with passion and having it returned was pleasurable, but if it wasn't Bella's he would grow tired of it. He knew he could no longer have Bellatrix, but she would always be his ideal, and his mind would always find any other witch short of perfection.

"I don't think you understand just how much you mean to me." Pansy's voice broke the spell of silence. She was up now, putting on the jade dress she had been wearing, covering the lacy black underwear he had been so quick to remove earlier.

His eyes lingered on the way the jade silk clung to her shapely body. She was so close he could touch her. He wondered what it would be like to watch her dress every day. His mind screamed again. Because she was much more than just a diversion to his mind, because she was actually capturing him, slowly driving Bellatrix off, conquering her territory bit by bit.

She wasn't Bella. She was Pansy. Quick, witty, malicious Pansy. That had grown on him like ivy, encasing him in care and affection when he believed there was none to be had. Rising to the expectations were Draco had wilted. She would soon earn her Dark Mark, and wear it proudly. And he would be proud of her too. Maybe there was a way, after the war.

He realized then what was happening.

He had to put an end to it. What they had was good for now, but after the war she would have to find herself a proper wizard, one to love that could love her back, one that could marry her. He couldn't let her dream like this. It wasn't like they would ever have the chance to be something more. He couldn't let her become like him. So he would smother her dreams, now, when it wouldn't be so damaging, before they grew too large to leave behind that undying hope that he was so familiar with.

"What do you think you mean to me?" He moved away from the bed, using the distance to his advantage, creating the distance she needed to keep from him. "Something more than a distraction? You don't, little girl," the lie hurt them both, but it was necessary, "I have a wife, you're the concubine, nothing more. And you'll never be more than just that, Pansy."

Except she was already much more. But he had to kill it.

She was too young to know of the complexity of his marriage, and she spent most of her time at Hogwarts to be aware of anything in the Inner Circle, so he used her ignorance to hurt her, to make sure she would keep this on a purely physical level. As it needed to be. For the sake of both of them.

Pansy was hurt, that was obvious in her eyes, but she steeled her features, giving nothing else away. But her voice shook when she opened her mouth.

"You're not happy with her, I can see it. But you're happy here, with me."

"Yes, that's your job. You'll keep me happy or I'll grow tired of you and leave. And that sort of clingy statement is a great way to drive me away."

He turned on the balls of his feet, retrieved his robes from the back of a chair, and left. He had not given her a chance to reply, unable to face her eyes. He decided he needed a cold shower to calm his mind before the meeting. And realized he would still be thinking of her anyway.

* * *

 _Author's Notes: Prompts and Challenges_

 _Creative Collection Challenge: Pairing - Pansy Parkinson; Dialogue - I don't think you understand just how much you mean to me_

 _Caffeine Awareness Challenge: Breve - Write about something or someone being replaced_

 _Jewel Challenge: Cat's Eye Necklace - Write about someone/something not being all it seems at first glance_

 _365 Prompts 58 Colour – Jade_

 _Fanfiction Resolutions 29. Write a cross-gen fic_


	14. Root of Asphodel and Wormwood

_Author's Notes: No specific warnings here. Please let me know what you think before you go. Prompts and challenges in the usual place, down there_

 _Word count - 1120_

* * *

 _ **Root of Asphodel and Wormwood**_

 _Malfoy Manor, July 1997_

Rodolphus was reacquainting himself with the corridors of the Manor, as he was levitated into a room he did not remember. A small office, it seemed. Severus Snape levitated his injured body to a sofa by a window, and he hissed in pain as his weight put pressure on bones that were surely broken.

"Stay still," Severus told him, already shuffling through vials, "I'll take away the pain, but your bones will have to grow back over the night."

 _Skele-Gro_ , he figured. The potion was a usual remedy in his youth, during his Quidditch playing years at Hogwarts. He would have trouble sleeping tonight.

"Where is Bella?"

"Upstairs. She was furious about missing her niece tonight. Breaking things, I'm sure. The prisoners in the dungeons will have a tough night." Rodolphus sighed. Yes, Bella would probably take out her frustration in some poor soul.

"And the Dark Lord?"

"Upstairs too, probably destroying a room as we speak." At that, he had to hold back a chuckle. No, there was something else upstairs these days, something that Snape was completely ignorant of. A little someone with dark curls and wide, heavy-lidded eyes, that had an uncanny ability of calming both her parents.

But he couldn't talk about that.

Severus was by his side again, gesturing for him to prop himself up on his elbows, so that he could take whatever he was pouring on a spoon. The pain was number then, and Rodolphus sat up just slightly.

There were bookshelves all around the room, but the majority were lined with vials, jars, flagons, bottles and flasks. Some held potions, some held ingredients. This was quite clearly Severus' study and potions lab. He could make out the contours of a cauldron in the corner, simmering with something, but he didn't care to ask.

"You'll stay here for the day, where I can watch over you." It was a simple statement, made as he covered his aching body with a quilt that came flying from behind a door Rodolphus hadn't seen yet. Severus bedroom he figured.

"Do you think there was something we could have done differently?" With the pain numbed, Rodolphus found that he couldn't sleep just now. His brain was reeling, still trying to process what had happened. Seven Potters. Seven freaking Potters had taken to the skies, and they couldn't take a single one out, let alone the right one.

"This is real life. You don't get to hit the rewind button when you make a mistake." Severus answer sounded bitter, like he himself had wished for do-overs many times before.

"What's that? A rewind button?" Rodolphus was honestly puzzled. Severus was simply annoyed by the conversation.

"It's something in Muggle devices. You wouldn't know."

Rodolphus chuckled. Old Snape, getting snappy over his less than clean blood. But he really was curious now.

"What does it do?"

"Think of it as a precisely aimed Time Turner, one they use to go back on a song and such."

"Why? Why on earth would you want to," Rodolphus raised his upper body a little more and immediately regretted it, hissing in pain, "you know what, forget it." He slumped on the sofa, adjusting a pillow beneath his head. Severus smiled.

"Can I trust you to lie down and be still now? Or do I have to sedate you with something?"

"Getting bold, are we? No," Rodolphus shook his head and made a dismissive gesture with his hand, "you do not have to sedate me. And I will hurt you if you try."

He watched the younger wizard get up once more, moving to a place behind the sofa, where he couldn't watch his movements anymore. He didn't like that. The months he had spent in Azkaban hadn't done much for his sanity, but they hadn't broken his body in quite the same way. All his reflexes were ready to go, pain or no pain, he would move. He looked for his wand with his fingers, feeling for it under the quilt, and taking hold of the handle.

He did not need to use it. Snape was smart enough not to move briskly around those that knew the insides of Azkaban a bit too well. They were all like that now, Rodolphus admitted. All of them more than a little broken, but all the more dangerous for it. Severus moved to his side of the sofa again, and lowered his body.

"Here, this is the Skele-Gro," he said, extending him a small glass, "then you drink this. It should help you sleep through the process." Severus stood back up, taking the empty glass and extending a vial, already free of its stopper.

Rodolphus tried, and failed, to prevent his face from twisting at the taste of the potion. The thing hadn't gotten any better with the years. He poured the vial down his mouth, wishing for something better. It was sweet, cloy, and entirely displeasing after the bone growing concoction.

It wasn't a sedative, so it wouldn't make him sleep right away. But it would make his mind foggy, and he had to watch his words around this wizard. He was not a dim witted Carrow. He knew how to put two and two together. So he decided to guide the conversation.

"Did you ever wish to have one of those buttons?"

"Shut up, Rodolphus, and go to sleep." Severus was done talking, apparently. Rodolphus saw the ghost that haunted his dark eyes, behind his greasy hair, that had fallen over his face. That ghost came back every now and then, but Rodolphus hadn't been able to put a finger to it.

He wasn't going to manage that now. Snape had closed on himself, there would be no more talking. Rodolphus stirred under the quilt, adjusting his body, making himself as comfortable as possible. He turned slightly, almost facing the back of the sofa.

He heard Severus mutter something that sounded like a goodnight, but didn't answer. He remained silent as Severus left the study, and closed the door to his bedroom. He focused on the shelves he could see now. Most of the stuff he couldn't identify, he had never been very good with potions, but there were labels on every single one of the flasks and vials.

All but one, in between a jar that read _Root of Asphodel_ and another that read _Wormwood_. A single jar that held a single flower, obviously preserved by a charm. A white flower that seemed to float inside, untouched by the cylinder of glass, not touching the bottom or the lid. A lily.

 _There's his ghost. Old Snape and his old regrets_ , Rodolphus thought. Right before he closed his eyes.

* * *

 _Author's Notes: Prompts and Challenges_

 _Creative Collection Challenge: Pairing – Snape; Dialogue - This is real life. You don't get to hit the rewind button when you make a mistake_

 _Caffeine Awareness Challenge: Cortado - (restriction) No characters under 25_

 _Jewel Challenge: Agate Ring - word Bold_

 _365 Prompts 200. Plant/Flower – Lily_


	15. Rather Life than Soul

_Author's Notes: This one is slightly AU, as the timeline was adjusted a bit. No specific warnings for this. It is also the last piece of the collection. I hope you enjoyed it, please let me know how you feel about it ;)_

 _Word count - 1104_

* * *

 **Rather Life than Soul**

 _Kuopio, Finland, June 1996_

Rodolphus leaned on a statue, lazily nibbling on his last piece of chocolate, letting it melt in his mouth, coating it. He had been waiting for a while now, waiting for the traitor to come up the path as he knew he did every Wednesday, after getting some supplies from the Muggles in the village. He didn't buy them. No, he broke into their houses in the dead of night and stole from them. The Muggle Police was utterly lost; it took a wizard to recognize magic.

He had nothing but moonlight to see with. But the moon was big and bright tonight, and Karkaroff wouldn't try to keep away from it, not here, so far up north, so far away from the sleeping town. He looked up, to the statue he leaned on. A woman, he could tell, though her face had been eroded by the wind. She stood alone in the hill. She seemed to be pleading with the stars, from the way her face was looking up, her arms open and her palms turned up. But her fingers were spread, basking in the night light, as if she were trying to capture starlight. He had no idea why the Muggles had decided to place a statue of a woman here, but he had no interest in trying to understand them.

Then his target came into view. Tall and thin, thinner now, carrying a bag over his shoulder. Silver hair that looked out of sorts, a goatee gone wild that had turned into a proper beard. Completely unaware of the spy behind the statue.

He walked up the hill, keeping his eyes on the ground. Rodolphus followed him with his eyes, casting spells on himself to keep his steps and breathing quiet, and waited until Karkaroff turned towards the woods to start moving.

The path winded through the woods for quite a while, illuminated by the moon that filtered down the canopy. It ended at a shack, a battered, old thing that looked as good as demolished. Rodolphus smirked.

His Master had entrusted him with a solo mission, before the one that was quickly approaching them. In a week or so, they would break into the Ministry. But tonight, Rodolphus would prove his worth by eliminating the turncoat.

Karkaroff went inside as the bells tolled. Midnight. The beginning of a new day. Fitting. With the twelfth chime, Rodolphus moved up to the door, feeling the wards react to his presence.

"Igor, I mean no harm!" He said loudly, announcing his presence to the other wizard.

Karkaroff came bursting through the door, wand held up in front of his body. Looking puzzled, and afraid, and a lot more things. The man was positively losing it. He had been on the run for a year now, and he was paying the price of constant vigilance.

Rodolphus kept his wand on the ground, keeping it in sight, both a threat and a promise of peace. His Master had commanded him to be swift about it, they needed to lay low for now. So he couldn't risk a proper duel. It could draw the attention of the Muggles in town, but mostly it could draw the attention of Finnish wizards and witches. He was here to eliminate a traitor, not to cause a diplomatic incident that would shed light on their cause too soon.

Karkaroff kept his wand on his chest, but uttered no spell.

"What are you doing here? Did the Dark Lord send you?"

He was shivering, and it wasn't the chill in the air. But Rodolphus couldn't let the charade crumble before its due time, so he kept his smile to himself and made an appeasing gesture with both his hands.

"I've come to retrieve you, so that you can join our Master and his cause once more."

Karkaroff laughed. And Rodolphus had to admit that he sounded as unhinged as Bellatrix in that moment.

"And why would he want me back? I ran, did I not? I'm a traitor," his voice shook violently, breaking at the word, "I'm wanted dead, and nothing else."

"Remember Snape? You must have spent quite a lot of time with him, at Hogwarts," he allowed the words to settle on the other's mind, "he was a proper pet of Dumbledore then, was he not? And he is back at our Master's side. He was forgiven, and so you will be."

It was working, he could tell. Karkaroff's logic was faltering. It had started the moment Rodolphus called for him instead of screaming a killing curse at him. Now it was crumbling. He let his wand down, just a little. Rodolphus didn't raise his.

"He shouldn't trust me."

"But you must have gathered important contacts during your years at Durmstrang. You'll know which families will side with us when the time comes. You know which former students would answer the call of our cause."

Rodolphus dared peek into Karkaroff's mind. Merely touching the surface, not really diving into it. He couldn't risk it, should Karkaroff recognize the tell-tale buzz. The surface was enough. The deluded wizard wanted to believe that the Dark Lord was capable of mercy so much, that he was ignoring every logical reason to deny the bait being presented.

"You shouldn't trust me. Not after what I have done." And with that he sealed his fate. He let his wand down completely, and it now pointed to the ground.

"And what did you do, Igor?"

"I ran when he came back. I sold others to the Ministry just so that I could escape Azkaban…" His voice became a whisper and then died altogether. His mind had just realized something.

Rodolphus had called him Igor. No one did that, no one but his Master. And only when he had meant to lure him closer, usually before delivering punishment. His eyes grew wide, the pupils eating away the blue.

Rodolphus saw it all happening in his mind.

"You shouldn't trust me," his wand was up and aiming true faster than ever, " _Avada Kedavra_!"

In a jet of green light, Karkaroff came to the realization that his former Master had no mercy to give. And none had his followers too. But it was too late. Still, he would rather give up his life than his soul. Then everything went dark.

Rodolphus stood there as the lifeless body fell, lying slumped. His work here was almost done. He pointed his wand up, to the night sky, and then left as a skull and a snake emerged in between the stars.

He had proved himself worthy.

* * *

 _Author's Notes: Prompts and Challenges_

 _Creative Collection Challenge: Pairing - Igor Karkaroff; Dialogue - You shouldn't trust me. Not after what I have done_

 _Jewel Challenge: Lapis Lazuli Necklace - Write about a statue_

 _365 Prompts Challenge: 306. Time - Midnight_

 _Caffeine Awareness Challenge: Mocha - (food) Chocolate_


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